Anguish of a Girl Child

By Rajiv Khandelwal

I often wonder,

Why can't adults grasp

The subtle joy of being cranky

Yesterday

Mom again made ‘amras’

                                      A potion of refusal

Blindly ignoring 

My clear disdain for it

My younger brother, sly as ever

Strutted up

Claimed my share of ‘amras’,

And devoured it in one gulp

Like a whirlpool claiming a ship

Like fire sucking Oxygen 

He didn't even ask permission 

Breaking every unspoken rule of sibling decorum

Balancing the scales of justice 

I slapped him

For doing exactly what

I secretly hoped he would  

He didn’t flinch

Did not bat an eyelid 

Stood like a fortified fortress wall

Against a siege 

Mom erupted,

Her fury 

            A cannon fire in the heat of battle

Punished twice as hard

                                    For my single strike 

Is this what fairness looks like in the eyes of grown-ups?  

Later, rallying for 'hide and seek'

My all-male cousins

Backed by my brother

Insisted on playing board games

And refused to heed my plea

Authority being diminished 

I was like a bear with a sore head 

So smacked 

My sweet and sour younger brother

Who’s always primed to be the opposition leader

Again, today 

Though my brother kept his grievances unvoiced

He rarely rats

We settle our scores in our silent ways

But Mom, true to form

Lost her temper,

Her fuse blew sky-high

Still, I’m left wondering

Why is Mom always 

So agitated, as if stung by a hornet

Especially when it’s me involved

Could her distress hide lessons I'm yet to interpret

Or is it merely discipline, hastily applied 

Yet, clear-cut answers remain elusive 

For its really difficult to understand 

The sudden looming of storms

In adults 

With pressures differing between son and daughter 

A disparity seen in each scold

Forget the scolds

Rewind to last week’s marriage party 

Dad clicked ten photos of my brother 

Posted them on whatsApp 

And none of me 

Even though mother remarked 

“I looked extremely beautiful” 

In moments when I feel utterly despondent

By the silent echoes of everyday neglect

And reflect 

It feels, perhaps

I am being taught unstated life-lessons by Mother

To edify me 

To silently digest my anguishes

By Rajiv Khandelwal